


One For the Road

by doctor__idiot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x09 "First Blood", Angst, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: Six weeks, six goddamn fucking weeks, and his entire body is aching, yearning for Sam.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Re-upload.

"We don’t have much time. We need to figure this out.”

Dean can’t answer. He wants to but he can’t because there is something stuck in his throat, something bitter and huge and sticky, and he can’t seem to swallow it. He can feel his lips trembling. His fingers are slightly shaky but never impacting his ability to shoot a gun, and Sam is staring at him.

Staring, pleading with his eyes for Dean to guide him, to explain, to come up with a plan to make it all better. Make it okay when it’s anything but.

“Dean?” Little brother’s voice prompting, penetrating Dean to his core. Sam sounds small, so young and vulnerable. So scared and Dean clamps his mouth shut against a sob. He doesn’t dare speak, afraid he’s going to start crying.

Six weeks, six goddamn fucking weeks, and his entire body is aching, yearning for Sam. He was deprived from seeing his brother’s face for so long and it’s a much deeper hurt than any physical torture could ever be. Maybe that’s why the solitude treatment was so effective. Not because he was going crazy with just his own mind as company but because they separated him from Sam.

It makes him feel weak. He knows they’re vulnerable because of their need for each other and others are beginning to catch on, too.

He hasn’t even _touched_ Sam. Not since they woke up on those slabs in the morgue. He doesn’t think he can, not without going back on his word, on his deal with Billie, not without catastrophic consequences.

He knows Sam wants him to, wants nothing more than to be enveloped in Dean’s arms, to be held tightly enough that he can barely breathe, and god, Dean wants that, too. So much that it’s already hard to breathe.

He thinks it would break him if he did.

They barely have three hours till midnight, barely twenty minutes until Dean expects the group of soldiers to show up outside of the cabin. He isn’t sure how much fight he’s got left in him, now that got what he wanted, got Sam back with him.

It was a selfish thing to do, so incredibly selfish. He sees the grateful accusation of it in his little brother’s eyes but he can’t bring himself to care. For a week, his thoughts were circling around but one thought. Make a deal, get them out of there, get _Sam_ out of there, whatever the cost.

Turns out the cost is him dying. Again. Leaving Sam alone. Again. Because there isn’t a chance in hell it’s not going to be him and Sam’s face clearly tells him that Sam knows that, too. And that he hates Dean a little bit for it. Dean can’t bring himself to care about that, either.

Ten minutes pass without so much as a stir outside. Either the men following them are exceptionally stealthy or they’re just slow. Dean is tight-strung either way, gun in his hand, ready to fight his way out. He knows they are going to be casualties but the thought leaves him cold, his heart beating steadily as ever. He scares himself a little sometimes.

Another five minutes and Sam has to know, too, that they’re running out of time. He abandons his place by the small, crooked table with the only light source in the room and joins Dean in the darkness. Their shoulders are pressed together, sharing body heat through coarse fabric.

Dean thinks he may have made a small sound because suddenly Sam’s fingers brush his jaw, turn his face, and then Sam is kissing him, nothing more than a press of mouths and shared breath. Dean wants to pull away because it’s going to ruin him, break him open and apart, too much after six weeks of nothing. There isn’t enough room, though, and he’s using all his energy to stay upright, his legs trembling, hand fisting in the sleeve of Sam’s overall.

It doesn’t even last long, just a few seconds but it feels longer than that. Dean can feel Sam shaking against him and he realizes that Sam thinks this is going to be the last time they ever get the chance to do this. Perhaps it is. Dean can’t think about that now. Can’t think about… Can’t think.

He pulls back with a gasp and turns his head away because he feels like he is going to throw up. He doesn’t but the feeling doesn’t go away.

They wait.


End file.
